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“No.”
“Roark?” The wind blows a gust of flames higher into the air and to the left until the tip almost makes it to the garage.
“Yes.” Roark Shippers blinks and swings his head around to face me.
“Anyone at your house?” The heat from the fire is melting the window trim on the outside of the garage. I’m not about to get closer until they have water blasting the building.
“Yes, my wife and mother-in-law are still in the house.”
I narrow my eyes as the curtain in the front window shifts and slides back into place. “You should–”
“I’m on my way.” He wipes his palms on his jeans. “They need to get out before the fire jumps.”
“Good idea. If this thing engulfs, it wouldn’t be hard for other structures to get involved.”
“Shit,” Roark grumbles as he speedwalks to the house.
By this point, Vargas and Kameron are directing the other guys as they unwind the hose and set up the ladder, prepping to get this baby out. Even though Kameron has only been here a couple of months, they work together like a well-oiled machine.
My stomach cramps. I’ve worked with these guys for years. Even before I graduated from college, I volunteered for the department. The thought of finding a flow with a new group of guys is not appealing. But I’m not going to spend years in a long-distance relationship with Harbor. “You think it was the furnace?”
“Yeah.” Owen shrugs. “I don’t know what else it would be. Maybe the water heater or the washer or dryer, but the way it blew, I think it was the furnace.”
I lay my hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this. We’ll get it out as soon as possible and get your life back on track.” At least as back on track as it can get. The best-case scenario is they stay in a hotel or with family for a few months as insurance pays for renovation work. Worst case scenario? We can’t get this thing under control, and the house is toast. Literal toast.
Kameron scales the ladder and focuses the hose into the center of the fire, attempting to snuff out the flames as the other guys work on dampening the garage and the siding nearest the hot spot. The second the water hits the fire, the angry sparks hiss and tamp down but aren’t willing to relent. They flatten, and the tip shoots back upward, closer to the garage.
Water gushes down into the fire as Roark and his wife step outside of the house. From their porch, they talk in earnest while randomly searching the area and rubbing their hands together.
“All right folks, I think we’re making progress.” I tilt my head toward them and approach the house, listening for signs of pending eruptions or falling objects. When I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary, I swing the ax at the side of the building approximately 7 feet from the area with the most damage. The steel smacks the siding and jars my arms and shoulders.
As I attack the outside wall, Kameron continues to douse the fire, which appears to be lessening in intensity. But the only way to tell for sure is to get into the walls.
“Head inside from the front,” Kameron calls down to Vargas and Dixon, who nod and run around the front of the house. I don’t have to see them to know once they get the door open; they’ll wait safely outside to ensure no flames surge outward toward them.
With each stroke of the ax, I tear through the siding, sheathing, and insulation. I stop and listen. Hissing and sizzling. Hissing and sizzling are much better than crackling and popping any day. I swing with all my strength, lodging into the sheetrock and breaking free into the laundry room.
My shoulders and arms burn as I continue to break chunks of the wall into the yard while making the hole larger. It isn’t until I break through that the smoke-filled room is visible. The smoke swirls in a lazy circle, lacking the resources to billow upward. I think we’re in luck.
Vargas and Dixon stand inside the room, aiming their fire extinguishers toward the section that would be on fire if the blaze was still raging. I can’t understand what they’re saying, so I drop the ax to the ground and step back, looking up at Kameron, who’s focusing on another spot closer to the corner of the house.
“From my vantage point, I don’t see anything,” I yell up at Kameron.
“It’s out from here,” he yells back but continues to douse the building. Even though the fire is out, they’ll spend a few more minutes dousing the area. We don’t take chances. Once, a house in the next town over re-caught on fire three hours later and burned to the ground. That won’t happen on our watch.
I step up to the hole. “Out?”
“Out.” This time, Vargas’s voice is clear.
I turn on my heel and walk back to the owner, who’s watching our every move with rapt attention. “The fire is out. They’ll spend a few more minutes blasting everything to ensure nothing builds up later and restarts. It appears from out here the fire started on the wall closest to the garage.
“The central air system.”
“Likely a good guess. I’d say that you’ll need to rebuild the outside wall and clean up some extensive smoke damage, but having not been inside myself, the damage appears to have only impacted one room.”
“Thanks.” He smacks my back. “You guys are the best. I flipped the fuck out when that damn thing boomed. I thought the whole place was going to blow. And I almost went back in to grab my baseball card collection.”
“Thank God you didn’t. A baseball card isn’t worth risking your life.”
